Always a Rat
by Lady Tol
Summary: Three different moments in Peter Pettigrew's life through his eyes. Complete
1. No Matter What

A/N: This will be just three chapters long, three different moments in Peter Pettigrew's life. The idea for these three just wouldn't leave me alone, and I just had to write. I hope everyone likes them!

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"Then you should have died!" roared Black. "Died rather that betray your friends, as we would have done for you!" (Rowling 375)

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I was finally eleven, finally old enough to attend Hogwarts. My mother's firm grip on my hand never faltered as we pushed through the throngs of people at King's Cross trying to find the correct train to board. But we passed by all of them, my mother knew exactly which platform she was headed for. 

I was almost hoping for her to lose the way, so I didn't have to go. Half of me wanted to just crawl back into bed. What if I didn't live up to her standards for me? What if I really wasn't a wizard, I had just gotten the letter by mistake. I turned my head backwards to see my father struggling behind; almost getting lost between the crowds, but my mother didn't glance back once. Her gaze was set determinedly forward.

We finally reached the platforms 9 and 10. It was then that my mother finally looked down at me.

"Don't get scared dear, just run straight through." She whispered in my ear, and I nodded. My hands were shaking and my palms sweaty as I gripped onto the trolley that held my trunk. My mother looked around at all the passing Muggles, making sure none were watching us, and pushed me forward a bit. I closed my eyes and broke into a sprint. If anyone had been watching, they would have seen me running at the brick wall between the two platforms and then would have seen me almost melt into the wall, as if I had never even been there.

The first change I noticed was the sound. Not only were there hurrying feet, but now I could hear the hoot of various owls who found their time for sleep rudely disturbed. The angry yells of travelers who were about to miss their train was replaced by the goodbyes and sniffling of mothers as they clung to their children for one last time.

When I opened my eyes, I saw it. The Hogwarts Express. Its red coat was gleaming in the sunlight of the day. The train whistled, as if herding the students aboard. I turned to see my mother tight behind me, a lone tear in her eye.

"Peter, your father and I are so proud of you. I promise, you will learn so much at Hogwarts, and you'll make amazing friends." She bent down to my level, and gave me a warm hug, which I returned. "No matter what you do, we'll always love you. Remember that."

"I will mum." I answered, tears threatening to spill. She was so sincere about what she had just said, some of my fears dissolved right then and there. But there was still the fact that I might not make any friends. Who would want to hang out with a wimpy kid like me, who was almost crying in front of the entire school?

I gave my mother one last hug, and she kissed the top of my head. Before I turned to board the Hogwarts Express, I said back, "I love you too."

She wiped another tear from her eye, and waved me off. I pulled the trunk onto the train, and waved back to her. The train was pulling away, and I caught one last glance at my mother, before Platform 9 ¾ rolled out of sight.

But I knew if I came back the next day, with a letter explaining I was a squib, my mother would still love me.

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Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. 1st ed. New York: Scholastic P, 1999. 


	2. Friends Forever

A/N: Here's the next installment in my Peter Pettigrew series. Sorry it took a bit, I had ideas for it, I just didn't have the times to put the ideas into writing. Hope you like it, let me know what everyone thinks with a review! Next one should be up soon, I only have one more week of school until Christmas vacation, so I'll have much more time.

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"Sirius – it's me…it's Peter…your friend…you wouldn't…" (Rowling 372)

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As the years progressed, so did the workload at Hogwarts. When I look back on my first year, I sometimes wonder if I could just go back to those classes. The professors obviously don't want any of us to have social lives as fourth years. Almost ever night I am sitting in the library until Madam Pince shoos me out when she closes thirty minutes before curfew. Tonight is no different, it's nine o'clock and I only have half an hour more to finish my Potions essay for Slughorn.

I fought to keep my eyes open while scribbling as large as I could on the parchment in front of me. Today had been an extremely long day and writing a three foot essay was not helping. I experienced one of the most difficult Charms lessons ever, followed by a Care of Magical Creatures Class that can only be described as requiring everyone's full attention.

The chair across from mine scraped against the floor, and I was looked up, my eyes slightly dazed from reading the endless rolls of parchment. Across the table from me was Mulciber. Next to him sat Avery, with Goyle blocking the exit from the column so that I could not leave the library.

"Pettigrew, long time no see." Mulciber drawled, leaning back in his chair, a sneer on his face.

"Must have been the last time his little friends tried to make fun of him. Wait that was today." Avery added, all three of their faces becoming slightly more menacing. The two at the table drew out their wands, while Goyle seemed to expand himself a little more over the exit. I could see there was no way out, and even if I had mastered my Animagus form that James, Sirius, and I had been working on for the past two years, I couldn't do it in front of these three Slytherins.

I wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. I took a deep breath and stated calmly, "Can I help you with anything?"

"Oh Pettigrew, we just wanted to have a little fun with you." Mulciber almost spat out, not sounding as if he had 'a little fun' planned. I took a deep breath and grasped my wand in my pocket, hoping that they wouldn't throw anything too bad at me. I wasn't sure though. They may only be fourth and fifth years, but considering the people they hung out with, you could never know.

Four heads jerked as the door to the library was pushed open. In came his three best friends, James Sirius, and Remus. They all had a hand in their robes, obviously clutching their wands. They smirked when they saw the three Slytherins and myself, and quickened their place over to where we all where. I barely noticed Avery and Goyle share a worried look, because my attention was on my friends.

Not only where we friends, we were the best of friends. We were brothers, we protected each other. The four of us, the Marauders, shared a special bond more than any other students. When Remus told us about his 'furry little problem,' we didn't shun and ignore him like most would. We accepted him, and James, Sirius, and I decided to help him in anyway we could, the reason we were trying to become animagi.

"Avery, what a pleasure to see you!" Sirius practically shouted, receiving a harsh whisper from the librarian. "Was this morning not enough for you?" he added in a whisper.

The older boy scowled, and James stepped up to him. "Now, now, we don't want to start any trouble in the library, such a Mecca of knowledge. We can just wait until tomorrow in front of the whole school to kick your asses." James grinned mischievously, making his wand stick out just a bit from his robes.

"Come on guys," Mulciber said, gesturing for the other two Slytherins to follow him, "don't want to ruin any of these wonderful books." They all left the library, leaving the Marauders in the library by themselves.

"Thanks guys." I stated as they sat down, waiting for me to finish up. That's how amazing they were, they weren't going to leave me alone here after what just happened. "You're the best."

"We know." Remus said with a smirk on his face.

"We'll always be there for you, mate." James said in one of the most serious tones I had ever heard him use.

I knew then and there we'd be friends for life.

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Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. 1st ed. New York: Scholastic P, 1999. 


	3. Gain and Guilt

"Wh - what was there to be gained by refusing him?"

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A cool breeze swept some of the fallen leaves of the autumn in front of me. I hurried along through the street, rushing towards Headquarters. My master would not be happy if I was late, especially with the news I had for him tonight. With this information, I would be his favorite. Never would I be considered the weak one again.

I subconsciously rubbed left forearm, which I had been doing since I received the Mark. Even though the knowledge I would pass on to my Lord would finally make me useful in his eyes, I couldn't help but having a nagging regret in the back of my mind. Did I really want to betray the people who had helped me and always been there for me? But there was another side to my internal argument. To flee now, to ignore the Dark Lord, would cause much more physical pain then the betrayal of the friends.

He was too powerful, my master, to be refused. He was the most powerful wizard alive; Professor Dumbledore was getting old and his reflexes not as quick. That was how I dispelled my doubts about being his spy into the Order. But telling him what I had now would mean no turning back. There would be at least one person, Sirius, who would know that it was my fault, and he would never stop until he had his revenge.

But I had already made up my mind. The gravel crunched under my feet as I directed my steps toward Malfoy Manor, where everyone was waiting for the news. I entered the mansion and hurried to where the meeting was taking place. The door creaked slightly as I entered and all the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord looked over to me.

"What news do you have, Wormtail?" He asked in his cold, strangely high, voice. I felt a shiver down my spine as I got down on my knee and bowed my head, more in fear than respect.

"Only the best, my Lord. The Potter's have made me their Secret Keeper." There was silence, all the Death Eaters waiting for their Lord's response.

"There may be use for you yet Wormtail."

Laughter and whoops of triumph rang through out the room where they were meeting. Elf-made wine was brought out in celebration. The one child who could stand up to Voldemort was right in their hands. Peter accepted his glass, hoping the alcohol would dull the uneasy feeling he had in his stomach from guilt.

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Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. 1st ed. New York: Scholastic P, 1999. 


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